


Midnight Shadow

by XxXxDarkVampirexXxX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark Harry, Dumbledore Bashing, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX/pseuds/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted at FFN, so don't freak out if you've read this before. Just a quick note on names: Voldemort=snake face// Marvolo=human face// Dark Lord=either (depends on context).

Voldemort was bored. He was seated on his throne in the ball room of Riddle Manor in the town of Little Hangleton. Long, sharp nails scraped over a smooth, hairless head as he listened to his Outer Circle Death Eaters drone on and on about their latest  _accomplishments_. Right, if they could even be called that. He wasn't being told anything he didn't already know or hadn't guessed yet.

Suppressing a yawn, Voldemort absently stroked Nagini's head (the snake was napping on his lap), wishing for some sort of distraction. ...Perhaps he should throw out a Crucio or two, just to stave off his boredom. But before the snake hybrid could raise his wand, there was a sharp knock on the closed doors to the room.

"Enter," he called out, silently thanking Salazar for the more than welcome distraction. He'd even take Wormtail over  _this_ , and that was really saying something.

The large wooden doors swung open by themselves, revealing one of his Inner Circle Death Eaters, his precious spy, Severus Snape, who approached immediately before bowing cautiously. Voldemort wondered what he was doing here. Because of his position, Severus didn't normally come to him unless called for. It would be too suspicious otherwise.

"I apologize for disturbing you, my Lord," said the expressionless man, "but I have managed to...accomplish the task you last set for me."

If that wasn't such good news, Voldemort would have at least chuckled at Severus' use of the word 'accomplish', especially as he had been inwardly mocking the other Death Eaters for it. But it was obvious that his interest had been caught, judging by how he straightened up in his throne.

"Ssseverus, remain, the ressst of you are disssmisssed." He waited impatiently for the Outer Circle to leave.

The moment the doors closed behind the last Death Eater, two things happened; Severus removed his mask, becoming more relaxed as he did so, and Voldemort dropped his glamour. In the place of the pale snake-faced male, sat a much younger man of twenty five with a head of silky black hair. He was still pale, but not as much as before, with nicely chiselled features; high cheek bones, and an aquiline nose. Though his eyes were still crimson, they were no longer slits. He looked the personification of a young aristocrat. Oh, how he had missed his old appearance of Tom, as much as he disliked the name.

"You have managed it, Severus?" he asked, forked tongue gone now that he had dropped the glamour.

"Yes, my Lord," replied Severus Snape. "The old man has finally given me Potter's address. Four Privet Drive of Little Whinging, Surrey."

Marvolo's eyes flashed in satisfaction. "And the wards?"

"As you used Potter's blood in the resurrection ceremony, you can easily get passed the Blood Wards. However you must go in without the intention of harming him. If not, the other wards, the ones placed by Dumbledore will detect you, and you will be expelled from the property, notifying the old man as well."

"Will I be able to use magic?"

"As long as you do not use Dark magic, no one will be the wiser."

Marvolo smirked, more than a little pleased. "Good work, Severus. Now, who will be on guard tonight?"

The younger, but older looking man inclined his head at the praise, but frowned at the question. "No one, my Lord. Dumbledore has forbidden the Order from resuming the guard. We are not sure why."

Crimson iris' widened. "The boy is  _always_  unguarded?"

"No. There are some who did not listen to him. They watch over Potter when they can- which is not often enough. The old man is unaware of this as far as I know at the moment, and I am not inclined to inform him."

Now a frown appeared on Marvolo's face too. "Which members are these that are defying the Light's leader?"

"The oldest two Weasley boys, along with those twins, and the Wolf. However, the oldest two Weasley children both work out of the country and can never stay for long, the twins are spending quite a bit of time in Diagon Alley with the shop they are planning on opening soon, and the Wolf is constantly being sent on pointless missions for recruiting the werewolves."

Marvolo was definitely surprised by this. He did not picture any of those people to go against Albus Dumbledore's orders. The Weasleys were the Lightest of Light families around, and the wolf, well... "Why them?" he questioned, beginning to stroke Nagini once more when she stirred in his lap.

"Because it seems that at the moment, they are the only ones who seem to care for the boy, and vice versa. No one is in contact with him though. He had the twins watch his owl for the summer for some reason or another."

"...Explain."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus fell into thought for a moment, before continuing. "It seems that the rest of the Order has forgotten about Black. He only just passed, but they behave as if he never existed in the first place. The only time he is spoken of, is when Dumbledore brings it up. No one else seems to care that Potter will be mourning him, not to mention the fact he ended up possessed by you, which, no offence my Lord, likely was not a very pleasant experience."

The Dark Lord nodded once and waved his hand absently, signalling that Severus was not about to be punished for his bold words. "I see." He sighed softly. "What of the boy's friends? The youngest Weasley boy and the Granger girl?"

The dark eyed man frowned once more, looking almost disconcerted. "I am not sure. They are not in contact with Potter at all. In fact, they seem to be upset with him. Both them and the Weasley chit. Perhaps they had an argument when they last saw one another?"

Marvolo ran long fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling a twinge of fear that did not belong to him at all, along with anger, sadness, and a touch of resignation. But he barely had the chance to identify these foreign emotions before they vanished abruptly, leaving him with his own satisfaction. "Very well. I will be going to the boy tonight. Make sure no guard is placed, just in case."

"Of course, my Lord." Seeing the dismissal, Severus bowed, replaced his mask, and departed, leaving Tom Marvolo Riddle alone with his still sleeping snake.

Falling into thought, Marvolo tried to figure out what to do. He knew the boy's address now, which was all fine and well, but he could not enter with the objective of killing Potter off. It was the fault of Dumbledore's blasted wards, he knew. He would have to get the boy out of his home and bring him to the manor before he dealt with him. Perhaps his intention could be recon then.

Yes, if he were going with reconnaissance in mind, it meant he wasn't intent on harming anyone. Surely the wards would allow him in without notifying anyone then?

Pleased with that plan, Marvolo smirked and got to work...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have three more chapters down, so those should be up in the coming days. Chapter lengths will vary. Comments? Kudos?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased you guys are enjoying this, so thank you to all readers so far. Quick name note to avoid confusion. Voldemort=snake face// Marvolo=human face// Dark Lord=either (depends on context).

The clock had just struck midnight when Voldemort Apparated directly into Harry Potter's bedroom. Though he had not known exactly where to go, he ended up focusing on the teenager's magic via their link. It was an estimation at most, but it had worked, bringing him right where he needed to be.

Taking a moment to get his bearings, Voldemort looked around what seemed to be a very small room. There wasn't much in it at all from what he could see with the moonlight shining through the barred window. ...Wait, the  _barred_  window? Well that wasn't normal, but the shadows playing around the room made it look much like a prison cell. He looked at the rickety wardrobe, wondering why no one had bothered to fix it if it was broken, which it very clearly was. There was a bed, placed right up against the back wall, next to the window, allowing the light from the half moon to stream directly down onto it. This too was broken, the mattress small and hard looking with springs sticking out in various places. And there was Potter.

He was asleep on his side, an arm curled around his ribs, with what seemed to be a pained grimace on his face. Voldemort pushed him onto his back, but he didn't stay that way. Immediately, Potter groaned, the look of pain increasing, and he rolled back onto his side, remaining asleep as he did so.

The man frowned when he caught sight of something dark on the sheets where Potter's back had been. He reached down to touch it, curious to know what it was, as it hadn't been there a moment before. Bringing the dark substance covered finger up, he immediately caught the scent of blood. A forked tongue came out to taste it, and just as he had thought, it  _was_  blood.

Voldemort, more curious now, pulled out his wand and banished Potter's shirt. He stared, and stared, then stared some more. The amount of bruises on his chest and torso was amazingly disturbing, along with how you could not only see and count, but probably actually  _grip_  each and every one of his ribs.

He then shifted over to see Potter's back, and ended up staring once more. The teen had very clearly been whipped. And recently too, judging by the swollen and bleeding flesh. It must have occurred not long ago. Voldemort glanced over at the door, where he saw many locks; they went from the ceiling, all the way down to the floor, and could not be opened from the inside.

Now Voldemort was able to understand where those sudden emotions had come from while he'd been speaking to Severus. Potter must have been suffering a beating. He wondered how it had happened. Neighbourhood children? Or, perhaps his very own relatives? He shook his head. What did it matter? The boy was to die soon anyway.

The man waved his wand over the teen, then frowned. Cursing harshly as he received his results, he vanished on the spot. Harry Potter was left to live another day. But he would be back tomorrow, oh yes, he would be back...

* * *

"You summoned me, my Lord?" Severus was back, bowing before the Dark Lord in the ball room of Riddle Manor. It had barely been an hour since he had left the place.

"Yes, Severus," said Marvolo, frowning and fingering his wand. "What do you know of the tracer placed on Harry?" He didn't even realize that he had begun calling his enemy by his first name.

While Marvolo didn't notice, Severus certainly did, but a raised brow was the only sign of this. "Tracer, my Lord? I trust you are not speaking of the one in his wand?"

If Severus were anyone else, Marvolo would have considered that to be a stupid question. "Indeed."

Onyx eyes flickered in uncertainty. "He actually did it..." he muttered.

"Severus?"

"Dumbledore, my Lord. He has not been too pleased with Potter lately, though he will not say why, and he has been hinting at placing a tracer on the boy himself to ensure he does not go somewhere Dumbledore does not wish him to, namely away from the Dursleys. He seems to think Potter will run away, though I admit I do not know why."

Marvolo listened to this silently, wondering what Harry had done to upset the old coot to such an extent. "I did not recognize the tracer," he said instead. "Do you know how to remove it?"

The other man shook his head once, signalling that he didn't. "It is of Dumbledore's designing, but I can attempt to find out how."

Marvolo inclined his head. "As quick as you can, Severus. Dismissed."

Bowing, Severus left the room, and the Dark Lord was once more alone with his thoughts. So Dumbledore thought Harry wanted to run away from home... Was it because of the abuse? He knew what he had seen wasn't simply a one time occurrence. The many scars laying beneath the fresh injuries showed that much. But then-

**"Why are you so agitated, Master?"**

If he weren't a Dark Lord, Marvolo would have jumped at the sudden voice of his familiar.  **"I'm not agitated, Nagini."**

**"Yes you are. Now tell me what's wrong."**

**"Nagini."**

**"Master."**

He could never win against the snake, and often found himself glad that she wasn't human. Marvolo sighed and explained everything that had happened that day, from his conversations with Severus, to the foreign emotions that he had felt, and what he had seen of Harry and his bedroom.

**"Harry? Since when did you start calling my dinner by his first name?"**

**"Nagini."**

The snake sighed as much as a snake could.  **"Do you truly still wish to kill him, Master?"**

**"Of course I do!"** exclaimed Marvolo, surprised his familiar would even ask such an absurd question.

**"Are you sure? Because it doesn't really seem like it to me."** Nagini began slithering out of the room.  **"Think about it** **carefully, Marvolo."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will very likely be future editing, as I don't have too much planned for this fic at the moment. Once I actually figure out where I'm going with this, I'm probably going to go back and make changes where needed. Comments? Kudos?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you guys are enjoying this. We finally get some 'Voldemort'-Harry interaction in this chapter! Quick name note to avoid confusion: Voldemort=snake face// Marvolo=human face// Dark Lord=either (depends on context).

The moment Harry's repaired clock struck midnight, Voldemort appeared in the middle of the small bedroom. Harry was, once again, asleep in bed. Voldemort stared. He seemed oddly...peaceful. The man didn't think he'd ever seen Harry like that before. 

Pulling out his wand, he pressed the tip to Harry's heart. The moment his wand touched the teen's chest, Avada Kedavra green eyes flashed open. Voldemort didn't move, but heard the teen's breath catch in his throat.

"V-Voldemort!?"

"...Harry."

Harry frowned, presumably because he had called him by his first name, which was rare in itself. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

Voldemort raised a non-existent brow. "Any why do you asssume that?"

"I'm not dead."

The man couldn't help but chuckle. "Yesss, Harry, you are merely dreaming," he lied, lowering his wand.

Nodding, Harry closed his eyes. "I kinda wish this wasn't a dream though," he said softly.

"And why isss that?"

"Because you'd kill me, of course."

There was a pause before Voldemort was able to answer. "You wish to die, Harry?"

Cracking an eye open, Harry gave him a wry smile. "It would be better than the way I'm living right now." That eye fell closed once more. Shifting on his bed, he grimaced.

"You're in pain, Harry," stated Voldemort, still simply staring and wondering why exactly he had lowered his wand. This was his destined nemesis before him, after all.

There was that smile again. "You'd be too if you lived in this shithole."

Voldemort was quick to realize that hearing Harry Potter curse was a very strange thing. "What have your relativesss been doing to you?" he asked instead.

Harry chuckled dryly. "What  _haven't_  they been doing?" he retorted harshly. "Dunno why Dumbledore thinks I'm so safe here," he added in a mutter. "A bitter aunt who enjoys throwing heavy objects at my head. A cousin whose friends enjoy hunting and beating me. A paedophile for an uncle who enjoys beating and whipping, and touching me in places an uncle should never be touching their nephew in. Yeah, I'm soooo safe here..."

Voldemort continued staring, and didn't realize he'd been doing so until he saw that Harry had fallen back asleep. He raised his wand again, slowly, and once more pressed it directly against the teen's heart. This time, Harry didn't wake. Performing a complex spell that detected foreign magic on a person, the man frowned when the results came up.

Cursing under his breath, Voldemort vanished into the night...

* * *

Marvolo was pacing his study, impatiently waiting for the arrival of his spy. The spell he had used on Harry the night before had had some surprising results, and he needed to ask Severus about some of them. With him being closest to the old man, there was a chance he had some of the answers. Annoyed, he was about to send a jolt of pain through the Mark, like he usually did when his followers took too long (Severus had a bit of leeway because of his position), when the dour man rushed into the room, looking very nearly breathless. Nearly.

Severus bowed immediately. "I apologize, my Lord. Dumbledore was holding an Order meeting, and there was no way for me to get away."

"Anything of interest?"

"They're planning some sort of...party," replied Severus, looking disgusted.

Momentarily distracted, Marvolo blinked. "...A party?" he repeated slowly.

"Yes, to raise morale or something to that effect."

Marvolo actually had no idea what to say to that. They were in the middle of a _war_ , and the Light's leader was planning a _party_? The Dark Lord didn't know whether to be insulted or not. He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. Perhaps he should plan a raid for the same day as this...party. Yes, that would teach the fools not to underestimate him, because that was clearly what they were doing.

Pushing that thought behind him, he focused on why he had called Severus in the first place. "I found that Harry has been under many Compulsion Charms and I wish to know why."

Severus didn't even try to hide his confusion. "Compulsions...? Yes, that  _would_  make sense. I wonder why I had not thought of that before."

Marvolo raised a questioning brow. "Do you wish to clarify?"

"Compulsions run off after a few months and must be recast if you wish for the...victim to remain under its influence. If they are not recast immediately after they begin to wear off, the victim's behaviour slowly begins to change-to revert to normal. I have noticed that this seems to be happening to Potter."

The Dark Lord fell into thought for a moment. "Do you know what the compulsions were making him do?"

"Only speculation, my Lord. His attitude changes against the Slytherins and myself, towards his friends Weasley and Granger, and towards Dumbledore as well."

"And how does his behaviour change?"

"He does not seem to like his so called friends very much, mainly Weasley, Granger, and that little Weasley chit. He always seems to be closer to Longbottom and Lovegood-a Ravenclaw a year younger than him. The way he handles the Slytherins is different too. It seems as if he is merely _pretending_ to be affronted by their insults. He has this little...smirk on his face, faint but there. As for Dumbledore, Potter, to be frank, seems to despise him. His entire demeanour seems to become almost cold during these times. Yet a few days later, he reverts to the way he has always been- that annoying Gryffindor who is just like his father."

Marvolo listened to this silently, taking in all the information. Was Harry as sympathetic towards the Light as he had always thought? Or was there a chance he could go Dark? If Severus was telling the truth, and the Dark Lord knew he was, then there seemed to be hints of the teen slowly becoming darker. Marvolo would have no reason to kill him if he was dark or even neutral.

The crimson eyed man inclined his head in silent thanks. "You are dismissed, Severus."

"My Lord." The Potions Master bowed before departing.

Marvolo watched him go, then lost himself in his thoughts once more. He had discovered more than just Dumbledore's Compulsion Charms, and yes, he knew exactly who had cast them. There had been more foreign magic on-in Harry. His. Not only was it strong, but practically  _oozing_  darkness. Marvolo wondered how he had never felt it before while he had been around the teen. Then again, because it was his own magic it likely didn't stand out much to him.

The question however, was, why exactly did Harry have his, Marvolo's magic in him? Did it have something to do with that lightning bolt scar? With no one else having survived the killing curse before, it was hard to tell.

He would have to speak to Harry again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have one more chapter already written, and that will probably be up tomorrow. Comments? Kudos?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome, seriously. This is the last chapter that I currently have written, so updates are going to slow down now. However, you can look forward to another new fic in the coming days. Anyway, the name note of Voldemort=snake face// Marvolo=human face// Dark Lord=either (depends on context), still applies, and I won't be repeating it again, so remember that.

On the stroke of midnight, Voldemort once again appeared in the bedroom of Harry Potter. The teen was asleep again, this time without a shirt, though that was likely because of how incredibly hot it seemed to be in Surrey at the moment.

Harry being asleep was a problem. He wanted to talk to him, but obviously could not do so while he was off in dream land. Then again... Harry had thought he had been dreaming the night before, while they had been talking, so he could always wake him up and claim he was still dreaming.

Crimson slits going from the teen's bruised chest to his face, he poked him once with one of his sharp nails. Harry awakened immediately, hand going under his pillow as if he were searching for something, probably his wand. He came out empty though.

"Forgot my wand's locked up..." he muttered. Rubbing his eyes, Harry turned his sleep clouded face up at the man in the room, and squinted. "Voldemort?"

"Hello, Harry."

The teen reached around for his glasses, and when he found them, slipped them onto his face. "Back for another dream visit?" He stretched and then winced, likely because of the injuries he seemed to have. Then he froze. "Wait, did you just  _poke_  me?"

"Yesss. How elssse were you to know that I wasss here?"

Harry just stared incredulously. "You could've just, I dunno, called out my name or something. I'm a pretty light sleeper you know. Have to be when you're living here," he ended with a mutter, though the Dark Lord heard him loud and clear. "Then again, I have no idea how it's possible to be woken up in a  _dream_."

"You do not ssseem frightened to be alone with me, Harry. Why isss that?" questioned the snake-like man after a moment. Most people were terrified in his presence, so why wasn't this teenage boy who had been declared his mortal enemy since before his birth not behaving the same way?

"This is just a dream," replied Harry rather casually. "It's not like it's real or anything."

"I sssee." It was probably a good thing that he saw the situation as nothing more than a dream, and Voldemort was not about to correct him any time soon.

"You wouldn't happen to have a Pain Relief potion on you, would you? Oh, but if this is a dream..."

Voldemort regarded the teen carefully before pulling a vial out from under his cloak, already having anticipated this. Handing it over, he stared when Harry shot him a grin and accepted the potion, not even hesitating before drinking it down. "What if I had poisssoned that?" questioned the man afterwards.

Sighing in what was obvious relief, Harry simply shrugged his bare shoulders. "Wouldn't really have mattered now, would it? I'm going to die sooner or later. If not by your hand or my own, I'm sure old Dumbledore'll take care of it."

A hairless brow was raised. "And why do you asssume that Dumbledore wishesss for your death?"

Laying back down, Harry sighed. "I overheard the Order talking," he replied slowly. "They want us to kill each other."

Sitting down on the edge of Harry's bed, Voldemort watched the teen in well hidden surprise. Harry was in the same room as the Dark Lord himself, and here he was, relaxing in bed, having a non-violent conversation. How...bizarre. "And if you sssurvive?" he wondered.

"They'll send me to Azkaban, because I'll have  _killed_  someone." He scoffed. "Stupid really, as  _they're_  the ones who want me to do this. I mean, it's not like anyone bothered  _asking_  me whether I wanted to fight you or whatever. They brought me into the Wizarding world and just  _expected_  me to do this."

"Then allow me to be the firssst," said Voldemort, leaning in just a little closer. "Do you truly wish to fight me, Harry?"

Eyes glowing as green as the fatal Avada Kedavra itself locked onto his crimson slits. "Nope."

"No?"

"No," Harry confirmed. He frowned. "I don't think I'm really cut out to be the Light's Saviour to be honest. I mean, I think I'm kinda dark, actually. I blame the Dursleys. Or, maybe I should blame Dumbledore for leaving me here in the first place. ...Why exactly am I telling you this?"

"The-Boy-Who-Lived, Dark?  **Now that is a surprise** ," he finished in Parseltongue, fully aware that he had done so, and not at all expecting to be understood.

Harry's frown deepened.  **"It's not really** _ **that**_ **surprising. I mean, just take a good look at me and you'll see."**

Voldemort, for the first time in longer than he could remember, actually started. He stared at the bored looking teen before him, eyes as wide as snake-like slits could go.  **"You speak Parseltongue, Harry?"**

 **"Yes?"** replied the black haired boy, a look of confusion on his face.

**"How long have you been able to do this?"**

**"Always, I guess. I mean, I didn't know until just before I started my first year, because I accidentally set a snake on my cousin at the zoo. But I found out it was Parseltongue and stuff during my second year, when I stopped a snake Malfoy conjured up from attacking this one student."**

**"I have never heard you speak in this language, Harry,"** said Voldemort, now attempting to conceal his rather obvious shock.

Harry shrugged in what he likely thought was a casual manner.  **"I've been avoiding doing so, actually."**

**"Why would you do that?"**

Another shrug.  **"Cause it scares people? I dunno. I'm tired of people staring at me like I'm some sort of...freak show."**

 **"Harry..."** Caught in an unexplainable moment, Voldemort reached out and gently caressed the teen's jaw, wary of his sharp nails. He said nothing, but saw Harry's eyes widen. Harry didn't pull away though, in fact, he seemed to be too shocked to even move, yet there was no fear in his eyes. Unsure of why he had even made the motion in the first place, Voldemort slowly pulled away.  **"The Light is filled with foolish and fickle people, isn't it, Harry?"** said the Dark Lord, intent on bringing Harry's attention away from what he had just done.

The green eyed teen yawned tiredly.  **"I know. The moment something bad happens, it's my fault, but when they need my help, I'm suddenly their Saviour again."** He scoffed again before yawning once more.  **"How stupid..."** His eyes fell shut and seconds later, he was asleep.

Voldemort very nearly smiled at the sight. He was still surprised that the teen could be so...casual around him, but it pleased him nonetheless. He doubted Harry behaved this openly around Dumbledore. Reaching out, he pulled off Harry's glasses and stared down at them. Why was he even wearing these things? Why hadn't he taken a Vision Correcting potion? Most children did, which was why you only ever saw adults wearing glasses in the first place.

Setting the glasses down on the side table where Harry had picked them up from, the snake-like man got to his feet and, with a last look at the peacefully sleeping teen, vanished...

* * *

Marvolo collapsed onto his bed with a soft sigh. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, lost in thought.  _Why does Harry know Parseltongue? Only direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin end up with this gift, so how? For that matter, how exactly did this connection between us come to be?_

**"You went to see him again, Master?"**

Marvolo sighed again, not really in the mood to deal with his familiar, who had just entered the room.  **"Yes, Nagini."**

 **"And you didn't kill him yet?"** questioned the snake, slithering onto the large bed to curl up on his chest.

 **"No."** He reached out automatically and began stroking Nagini's smooth scales.  **"He knows Parseltongue, Nagi."**

Nagini gave a hiss of surprise, but seemed to be thinking, just as the Dark Lord was.  **"You two can see into each others' minds, right? And sense each others' emotions too?"**

**"Yes."**

**"Then...can't he be like me?"**

The man stared down at the snake on his chest in confusion.  **"Like you...?"**

 **"Yes, like me. A part of you."** When Marvolo continued to look confused, Nagini gave the snake equivalent of an exasperated sigh.  **"I hold a part of you in me, Marvolo. Can it not be that the boy does too?"**

 **"...A human Horcrux,"** whispered Marvolo, finally understanding what his familiar was saying.  **"Yes... Yes, that** _ **would**_ **make sense..."** he trailed off in thought. He had been planning on using baby Harry's death to make his final Horcrux, but as that hadn't worked, he had turned his loyal familiar into one in his stead. Was it possible that the killing curse rebounding sent a piece of his soul into the boy anyway? That wasn't exactly how it worked, but had it occurred? Magic was, after all, very unpredictable.

Harry being his Horcrux would explain quite a bit. It could be why they had their mental connection, and why Harry could speak the ancient tongue of serpents as well. But then he frowned as another thought came to him. Why did Harry feel pain when he was near him? If he was a Horcrux, then he should be feeling comfortable around him, not in pain. Nagini was his only other living Horcrux and she never felt pain, so then why Harry?

Then again, Harry hadn't seemed to be in pain the past few days that Marvolo had been to see him. Well, not pain caused by his presence at any rate. The pain Harry always felt when near him always seemed to distract him from focusing on the teen too closely. Were those things connected somehow? Did Dumbledore have something to do with this? Marvolo wouldn't have put it past him.

Marvolo sighed again, exhaustion building. He needed to speak to Harry again. The man wondered whether Dumbledore had told him about Horcruxes yet, or if he even knew about them. He blinked suddenly. If the old man  _did_  know, then Marvolo knew he had to make sure his other Horcruxes were safe. He wasn't going to chance anything, especially after the destruction of his diary. Lucius had been punished and forgiven for that, for the loss of the diary was what had helped him regain his sanity-and his original appearance in the first place.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, rather-today, he would check on them, and depending on how long it took, pay Harry another visit. He wanted to confirm this Horcrux theory...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, comments? Kudos?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless you're a new reader, you're going to notice that I changed 'Tom' to 'Marvolo'. I think it fits better in this fic, and have made changes to previous chapters to account for it. Feel free to let me know if I missed a 'Tom' somewhere. Oh, and a quick thanks to everyone who has been reading.

Voldemort was furious. Both his ring and locket were gone. He should have figured Dumbledore would make the connection and check the Gaunt shack. As for the locket-he couldn't believe Regulus had betrayed him. Had the two been destroyed though? There was no way to be sure. The rest of his Horcruxes were safe, that he now knew, but that didn't mean he wasn't angry. 

Returning to his throne, he dropped his glamour and summoned his spy. He would ask him whether Dumbledore had found the ring. Severus wouldn't  _really_  know what the ring was-no one knew about that-but he had to know. 

"Good evening, my Lord," greeted Severus with a bow the moment he stopped in front of the large throne.

Marvolo fingered his wand, wondering how to word his next request. "Severus, I have something very important that I must ask."

"Yes, my Lord?" asked Severus, onyx eyes focusing on crimson.

"Has Dumbledore recently acquired any new jewellery? A ring, to be specific?"

Severus frowned for a brief moment. "Actually, my Lord, he has."

"Really?" the Dark Lord intoned slowly.   

The Potions Master inclined his head. "Just earlier today in fact. I was about to come report to you about it."

"And?"

"He is dying."

Marvolo didn't seem to react at first, but then a cruel smile stretched across his face. "Is that so?"

"Indeed. The ring he found was coated in dark magic, yet he put it on for one reason or another-he has not told me why. The curse activated, naturally, and nearly killed him. I had no choice but to help him, and managed to trap the curse in one of his hands, but it will spread and he will die."

Marvolo of course knew exactly what the curse did, and was fully aware that there was no counter curse, well not one that anyone else would know, seeing as  _he_  was the one who had invented the curse and its counter. That was why he had placed it on the ring in the first place. "How long?"

Clearly Severus understood what was being asked, for he responded immediately. "In a year at most."

The crimson eyed man frowned slightly. "You are aware that I was going to have Draco attempt to kill him?"

"Yes. If I may, my Lord, why?"

Marvolo regarded his spy carefully. "The boy needs to learn what being a Death Eater is about, Severus. Young Draco seems to be under the impression that it is a...glamourous job." Marvolo saw Severus flinch, subtle though it was, and knew the man was thinking of some of the things he had done during his time as a Death Eater back when he, the Dark Lord, had been lacking his sanity. Though they both knew that in many ways, they were actually far  _better_  than the Light. At least they were upfront with their intentions.

"You do not expect him to succeed then?"

"Of course not. If  _I_  have not been able to end the old man, then there is no chance for Draco Malfoy to do so, talented though he may be. This is simply a lesson that he must learn. On his own."

Severus caught the underlying message, and inclined his head. "Of course, my Lord."

Marvolo smirked then. "Either way, the old fool's curiosity has done a wonderful thing for me. We needn't focus on ending his life if it will happen regardless in a matter of months. Draco will stress and worry, but it will not be for long. He is a Slytherin, and will figure it out fairly quickly."

"Do you require me to obtain this...ring, my Lord?" asked the onyx eyed man after a long and silent moment.

"Will it be possible?" questioned the Dark Lord.

"I believe so, yes, though it may take some time. Dumbledore is still wearing the ring."

"Then do so."

Severus bowed. "Yes, my Lord."

Marvolo paused in thought for a moment. "Have you made any progress in identifying the tracker the old man has used on Harry?"

"Unfortunately, no. Dumbledore is surprisingly tight lipped about it, but I am hoping to convince him into telling me."

Finalizing with his spy, Marvolo dismissed him. The moment Severus left the room, Marvolo slumped down in his seat with a deep sigh. Salazar he was exhausted, but now that Nagini had suggested that Harry may be one of his Horcruxes, he wanted to make sure...

* * *

It was exactly midnight when the Dark Lord appeared into Harry Potter's bedroom for the fourth time. Except this time, Potter wasn't there. Now that was strange. Every other time he had been here so far, the teen had been in bed. So why wasn't he this time? Voldemort wasn't about to wander the entire house, small though it was, looking for him. But he didn't want to leave just yet either. Perhaps he would wait, just for a few more minutes.

Disillusioning himself, he settled into a dark corner to do just that...

It was nearly fifteen minutes later that Harry stumbled into the room. He was pale and clutching his abdomen. The teen didn't seem to notice the Dark Lord either, and instead, took a seat of the edge of his broken bed rather gingerly. Clearly struggling not to wince, he pulled his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor soundlessly.

Voldemort caught sight of a large bruise already forming on the pale skin, and he frowned. It was obvious that it hadn't been made all too long ago. 

Harry however, merely sighed and prodded the mark. "Dammit, Uncle Vernon. Well, at least it wasn't my ribs again..."

The Dark Lord cancelled out the charm around himself, and suddenly became visible. "Good evening, Harry," he greeted, approaching the teen. 

Green eyes widened and the teen started slightly, looking up tensely, before relaxing. "Hullo, Voldemort," he returned, the smallest of smiles on his face. "I don't really remember falling asleep, but I guess it's possible."

Voldemort wondered why Harry never considered the possibility of this _not_ being a dream. Perhaps he  _had_ thought of it, but simply didn't wish to believe it. Perhaps doing so would make it all the more real. However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the man merely took a seat next to his destined enemy on the small bed.   

"I sssee you've been in injured again."

Harry chuckled very lightly. "You really shouldn't be surprised." He glanced down at his bruised abdomen before looking back up at the Dark Lord. "This is nothing compared to usual. Uncle Vernon was in a pretty good mood today."

Voldemort could literally  _feel_  his anger building. "Would you like me to heal you?"

The teen's eyes widened. "You can do that?"

"Yesss."

"Please then, if you don't mind." He suddenly frowned. "Oh, but if Uncle Vernon sees that the bruise is gone, he'll only beat me more..."

"Then take thisss inssstead." The man pulled a vial out of his robes, and held it out.

Harry didn't even hesitate. He took the Pain Relief potion, yanked out the stopper, and downed it right away, briefly wondering whether one could become addicted to them. 

Voldemort watched his nemesis drink the potion, watched as the pain left his face, watched as he relaxed. And when the teen thanked him, he merely inclined his head. "There isss sssomething I would like to check, Harry. Will you allow me to do ssso?" he asked after another moment of silence.

This time, Harry did hesitate. "What is it?"

"I wish to learn whether Dumbledore hasss been consssealing* a very important truth from you, sssomething that deeply affectsss both of usss."

Harry was quick to answer after hearing that. "Alright then, go ahead."

"You agree ssso quickly?"

The teen merely inclined his head. "Well, yeah, I mean-" he broke off as if trying to figure out how to word his thoughts. "I'm tired of the old man lying to me," he said. "If this...thing, whatever you're planning on checking, will tell me something that he won't, then I'm all for it. And besides, I already told you, it doesn't really matter whether you kill me or not. So just do it."

Voldemort regarded the teen closely, fully aware he was telling the truth. It was very strange at how accepting of death Harry was. They were completely opposite in that matter... Not wanting to dwell on it at the moment, he simply brought his attention back to the teenager seated on the bed next to him.

"Lie back, Harry," he instructed, "and clossse your eyesss."

Harry obeyed and laid down on the bed, head resting against his pillow. He pulled his glasses off and held them at his side, and after starting at a blurry looking Voldemort for a moment, allowed his eyes to fall shut.

The Dark Lord got to his feet and just looked at his extremely vulnerable destined enemy, then he slowly reached out, setting one large, long, sharp nailed hand over Harry's heart, the other, onto his forehead. He released the bond on his magic, and allowed it to travel out through his hands in an attempt to reach the teen's own magic. 

He could feel his own dark and seductive magic flowing through him as it searched. And then, out of nowhere, he found it, found Harry's magic. It was dark, untamed,  _wild_. Voldemort felt his breath catch as the teen's magic reached out to him, enveloping him curiously. It was intoxicating, sinfully so, enough that he had to force himself to calm and refocus on what he had come to do in the first place. 

The man let his magic flow deeper into the teen, searching. The feel of Harry's magic around him only grew stronger all the while. Suddenly-

"I knew it..."

*This was purposely spelled with an 's' instead of a 'c'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are lucky. You didn't have to wait nearly four months for this chapter like readers on FFN. So? Comments? Kudos?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, an update in a month? That's actually pretty surprising. You guys have been amazing with your response, so keep it coming please! And I don't think I've said this before, and will only be saying it once, but I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, obviously.

Voldemort reigned his magic back, mourning the loss of Harry's own magic around him as it automatically followed suit. Sighing inaudibly, he sat down again. "You may open your eyesss now, Harry."

Harry did so, setting his glasses back on as he sat up. "That felt really weird," he stated, blinking quickly a few times, seemingly trying not to draw attention to his slightly flushed cheeks. He cocked his head to the side. "So, did you find out what you wanted?"

"I did indeed, Harry," replied the man.  

"And?"

"It ssseemsss I wasss right."

Harry frowned. "So Dumbledore  _is_  keeping something really important hidden from me?"

"Yesss."

The teen cocked a brow. "You're being really weird about this. What is it?"

Voldemort glanced over at the clock. "I cannot ssstay long enough to explain, but if I sssent you booksss on the sssubject, would you read them?"

"I want to know, so yeah, I would," replied Harry, staring at the Dark Lord almost expectantly. 

"Very well. You will find the booksss in here by morning. You will learn much from them." He reached out and gently brushed the teen's fringe out of his eyes. "Sssleep now, Harry." 

"I thought I already was asleep?"

Voldemort chuckled lightly. "Well sssleep anyway." He waited until Harry had laid back down and taken off his glasses, before he got to his feet and in the blink of an eye, was gone...

* * *

_Harry's hair is very soft,_  was the first thing that ran through Marvolo's mind upon the return to his manor. He stared down at the hand he had run through the teen's hair for a moment, before managing to pull himself out of his conflicting thoughts. He needed to send Harry those books. Because it turned out that Nagini had been right. Harry Potter was one of his Horcruxes.  

And wasn't that a strange thought all in itself. He wondered how it had even happened. Was  _that_  what had occurred when his Killing Curse had rebounded off the child? Was  _that_ when a piece of his soul had attached itself to the babe? It was very strange. Marvolo didn't think something like this had ever happened before. Well, they  _did_  say there was a first for everything, right? 

The man walked through his large manor, making his way over to his expansive library while he debated on whether to sleep or shower, after sending Harry those books. 

Entering the library, Marvolo approached one of the shelves in the back of the room. He scanned the titles for a moment, then picked three books off their shelf. Manoeuvring to one of the tables, he set the books down, and called for a House Elf, asking for some packaging and rope. He wanted to prepare it himself. 

When the House Elf provided him with what he needed, Marvolo packaged up the books, tying the bundle together with the piece of rope. He left the library and was half way to his owlery, when he suddenly remembered that the window to Harry's bedroom had been barred shut. There was no way an owl would be able to get through there, let alone the package of books. 

Running his fingers through his dark hair, Marvolo figured he would just deliver them himself. He  _could_  just send a House Elf, but they were always so exuberant, and he didn't want them to accidentally wake Harry up or something. Besides, it wasn't as if it was going to take all that long. He was just going to pop in like he always did, leave the books on the broken desk, then pop back out. It couldn't take more than a minute...

When Marvolo silently appeared in Harry's bedroom, he quickly looked over at the bed to make sure the teen was asleep, mainly because he hadn't bothered to cast his 'Voldemort' glamour before coming. Only his Inner Circle was aware of that truth so far, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to tell Harry or not. They had only  _just_ begun this...whatever this was between them, after all.

He placed the package of books on the broken desk, then turned to face the bed, and its occupant once more. Harry was fast asleep, shirt still off, covers down at his hips. Marvolo focused on the bruise on his abdomen, noting how much darker it had gotten, and realized why Harry had been glad it hadn't been his ribs that had received that injury. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed like before, Marvolo began gently stroking the bruise with the back of a finger. Harry didn't stir this time around, which told the man he was likely in a deep sleep. Still stroking, Marvolo pushed a bit of magic into the wound, healing the bruise just a bit, enough so it would still be visible to the uncle as a bad injury, but wouldn't hurt as much. 

Making note of the other injuries and scars, Marvolo got to his feet, a a small frown on his face. He needed to leave before his presence was noticed. He wished he could take the teen with him, but knew it was impossible at the moment. The trackers on Harry would tell the old man exactly where his Saviour was, even with the Dark Lord's defences, and that was just something he couldn't risk. He couldn't just kill the Dursleys either, because Dumbledore would probably end up taking Harry to one of the Order safe houses, and there was no guarantee he would remove the tracers when doing so. He just had to count on Severus getting the right information, and hopefully he, or the spy could get rid of the trackers themselves...

When he returned to his manor, Marvolo settled on a shower before bed, even though he knew he was going to bathe again when he woke up in the morning. Entering his rooms, he found Nagini asleep, curled up on his pillow, and he shook his head in amusement. He had told her time and time again not to sleep on his pillow, but she never listened to him. 

Walking into the en suit bathroom, Marvolo turned on the water, adjusting it to be nice and hot, before he stripped down and stepped into the shower, ducking his head under the steaming water immediately. As he allowed the water to cascade down his body, the man fell into thought.

Marvolo had been getting this odd...feeling in his gut, whenever he thought of or saw Harry. He'd been assuming it was anger and hatred, that he had been sensing, but even after determining the teen was no longer his enemy, the feeling had not gone away. In fact, it had only intensified. And he had no idea why. He couldn't possibly still be angry or hate Harry, so then what was this strange sensation he was getting? He just didn't get it, and that was abnormal in itself. Then again, maybe it wasn't. He had never been very in-tune with his emotions anyway. 

Yawning suddenly, Marvolo sighed, lathered up and rinsed off. It was definitely time for bed, because he was bloody exhausted. He stepped out of the shower, and dried himself off as he returned to his bedroom. Nagini had moved down to the foot of the bed, which pleased him because he no longer had to move her himself. Not even bothering to put anything on, Marvolo dropped down onto the bed, closing his eyes the second his head hit the pillow, and was asleep in moments...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, I'm afraid, but I thought this would be a good place to end it, mainly because the next chapter will contain HP's pov! Finally, huh? Comments? Kudos?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this bloody thing! Sorry about the wait. Life sucks. Anyway, thank you to all reader so far, and an extra to those who commented. You guys always make my day! Oh, and yes, this does start out with Harry's POV.

When Harry Potter awoke the next morning, it was to the shrill voice of his aunt demanding that he cook breakfast for her family. Forcing himself out of bed, Harry was surprised to find that the injury his uncle had given him the night before, didn't really hurt all that much. It was still there, he noted, glancing down at the large bruise, but it definitely didn't look as bad as before.

Shrugging it off, Harry recalled what Voldemort had told him before he had fallen asleep, and looked around for the books he had been promised. Spotting a thick package on his desk, he smiled a bit. _Well what do you know? The Dark Lord Voldemort willingly gives the Boy-Who-Lived information, while the Leader of the Light never once bothered._

Contrary to popular belief, Harry wasn't an idiot. He had known almost immediately that the encounters he'd been having with Voldemort, weren't really dreams at all. Why the Dark Lord was acting as if they were, he wasn't sure, but he had played along all the same, curious to see what all this would lead to. So far, he wasn't sure, but perhaps those books would answer some of the many questions he had.

"Get down here, now!"

Harry cringed at his aunt's shrill voice, and left his room with a sigh, heading downstairs to make breakfast for the Dursleys. Voldemort and the books were still in the back of his mind, but he couldn't think about it any more because Aunt Petunia was watching him intently, just waiting for him to make a mistake...

After he finished cooking, he had no choice but to start on his list of chores for the day. His aunt followed him while he worked. It wasn't something she normally did, but he'd been caught stealing food a few days back, and she'd begun keeping a close eye on him lately because of it...

Hours passed before he was finally sent back to his room with an apple that had slightly wrinkled skin. He lowered himself down onto his bed with a groan, stretching his aching muscles, and very pleased he was almost done his chores for the day. All he had left was to prepare dinner, but because Uncle Vernon was going to be late today, he had a bit of a reprieve until he had to start.

Munching away on the apple which had a bit of a funny taste to it, not that he cared right now, Harry found himself to be very glad he had sent Hedwig away. He hadn't had a choice though, but was fine with it nonetheless. He had been upset at first, because his owl not being around would mean he had no one to talk to all summer. That, however, changed when the Dark Lord himself had begun paying him these strange visits.

The teen wasn't sure why Voldemort hadn't killed him or his relatives yet, or even why he bothered coming back practically every night. He found that he was actually _enjoying_ their conversations, not that they ever spoke for all that long. He was also a bit confused, because instead of hurting him, Voldemort was providing him with potions to relieve his pain, and knew the reason his bruised abdomen didn't hurt as much as it should have, was because the the Leader of the Dark had very likely healed it a little when he'd come to leave the books, which would never have fit through his barred window.

Tossing the apple core into the trash, Harry sighed deeply, listened intently for a moment, and after determining his aunt wasn't nearby, grabbed the package of books off his desk, settling back down in bed. He undid the wrapping, and pulled out three books. All of them, even at first glance, were obviously dark in nature, which showed they were tomes he would never have been able to find in Hogwarts' library.

Part of him wondered why he wasn't bothered by this at all. Maybe because he'd been talking to the Dark Lord himself lately? Voldemort hadn't done anything to hurt him yet, so why would he send books that would? Figuring that logic made sense, he cracked open the first book, simply called _Soul Magic_.

Harry frowned. Why would Voldemort want him to read up on that? Hell, he'd never even _heard_ of soul magic before. Curiosity aroused, he began to read.

It didn't take him very long to come across the term 'Horcruxes', and he immediately realized this was what Voldemort had wanted him to read about. Though there were various types of soul magic, this was the only one that really stood out, and was also the darkest one in nature.

So Voldemort had a Horcrux-no, Horcruxes, because Harry knew there had to be more than one. The diary must have been one and, judging by what had happened the previous night, _he_ was one too. He was harbouring a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. That was enough to make anyone sick. Then why wasn't he all that bothered by it?

Lowering the book, Harry raised a hand to touch the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He had been told that he'd received the scar because he had survived being hit with the Killing Curse. But that didn't make sense, since the Unforgivable _didn't_ leave any visible traces. Meaning surviving it or not, it _shouldn't_ have left a mark. And yet, he still had this scar...

Was this scar the sign of a Horcrux then? Did Dumbledore know this?

Harry wasn't just assuming he was a Horcrux. He _knew_ he was one. It explained so many things. It explained why he knew Parseltongue. It explained why he could sense what Voldemort was feeling. Hell, it explained why he could see into the Dark Lord's mind!

Closing his eyes and keeping his fingers pressed to his scar, Harry took a deep breath and tried to focus...

He found himself in a large, white, empty space. It was almost like a blank canvas. Was this his mindscape? He remembered Snape mentioning something about it, but he hadn't actually gone into detail, unsurprisingly. Maybe it was time for him to _actually_ learn Occlumency. First though, he had a Horcrux to find.

He peered around the empty space with narrowed eyes. Everything was just so...bright. Nothing stood out at all. Especially not a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. Surely something like _that_ would be _dark_ , right?

He wandered the empty space, looking around curiously. Where were all his memories? Would he actually have to start creating barriers for them to appear? Why couldn't Snape have explained this in more detail? Hell, why hadn't _he_ bothered to take this more seriously and actually made an effort to learn?

Something shimmery suddenly caught his eye. Frowning, he turned around to follow it, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at. It seemed to be a thread of some sort, but where did it lead?

He kept walking, and while he did, he noticed that even though nothing around him was changing, the thread seemed to be darkening in colour, oddly enough.

"Wait." Harry paused in place abruptly. "What the heck is that?"

A little further ahead, was a dark...blob. It sort of resembled a stain on his aunt's pristine counter that he would have to vigorously scrub off. Frown deepening, he approached it cautiously. Even though this was his own mind, he wasn't sure what to expect. Could this thing, whatever it was, harm him in some way? There was no telling for sure.

The closer he got, the more defined the strange blob became, until suddenly-

"Gah!"

* * *

_Marvolo had always been a light sleeper, which you had to be when you were a Dark Lord. So when he felt something hot and tight wrap around a rather sensitive part of his anatomy, he was quick to wake. He opened his eyes, and then blinked._

_Harry was riding his hard cock, the teen's own weeping length bobbing between them. Marvolo raised a brow, but dancing emerald eyes and a bright grin, was the only response he got._

_Chuckling lightly, the man raised an arm over his head, moving to grip the headboard behind him, the other reaching out to grasp Harry's hip, helping him bounce up and down enthusiastically. Pumping his hips to increase the pace, he groaned when Harry splayed his small hands out over his chest, fingers all but ghosting over pebbled nipples._

_"Enjoying yourself, Harry?" he questioned smoothly._

_He received another grin, so he changed angles and bucking harder, causing Harry to moan loudly and bounce faster, nails digging into Marvolo's chest, the slight twinge of pain only spurring the man on more. He stroked over glowing, sweaty, tanned skin._

_The teen's moans increased in both frequency and pitch, and then he cried out, back arching as he spilled himself all over the Dark Lord's chest and abdomen. Marvolo groaned at the feel of the tightening passage around him, and yanked Harry down for a harsh, hungry kiss as he reached his climax, jerking once and fucking his come deeper into the raven haired teen._

Marvolo woke suddenly. He was still clutching the headboard, his other hand gripping the sheets so hard, his knuckles were white. Breath caught in his throat, he looked down at his lap, finding that the sheets had managed to twist around his rather impressive erection-and he was sure he'd never been harder before in his entire life. Realizing he was awake, he released a sound of utter disappointment and frustration, still able to feel Harry's tight heat clenching around him.

And then he paled, finally registering what he had just dreamed of, and groaned again. What a way to have an epiphany. The world was mocking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give you what Harry's been thinking, but that wasn't enough for an entire chapter, so I added in a lovely idea from Spatzi here on AO3. I'm still new at writing smut, so you'll have to forgive me for how quick it was, but I'm practising. Anyway, no idea when the next chapter will be up, but I'm always open to ideas and suggestions. Comments? Kudos?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap. Wow, I definitely wasn't expecting the response I got for the last chapter. I guess that mini-smut scene was better than I thought, huh? Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

Severus Snape scowled at nothing. He was beyond frustrated. No matter what he tried, what he said, what he did, Dumbledore refused to give up the counter to the trackers he had placed on Harry Potter.

He was not sure how his Lord had learned of them in the first place, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know, but he was worried his Lord was falling back into his obsession of targeting the boy. That was how things had gone downhill the first time as well.

All those years ago, things had been going in their favour, despite what Dumbledore and the original Order had been claiming. But then, after what had occurred with the prophecy, all the attention had been focused on the infant Potter. All their plans had gone downhill.

The Dark Lord had gone...insane, had become obsessed, unhealthily so. It had shocked more than one Death Eater, Severus included, despite how young and green he had been at the time.

And he knew, somewhere deep inside, that it had been his fault.

Returning to his quarters, which were, mercifully, empty, the Potions Master sank down in an old, well used arm chair, and released a deep, but barely audible sigh. He needed a new plan. All his others had failed, and he needed that counter as soon as possible. Or, so the Dark Lord had said, and one didn't want to go against him. Severus certainly wasn't eager to do so.

He sighed again, this time pinching the bridge of his nose. What else could he do? When Dumbledore refused to listen, what could _anyone_ do? Unless...

* * *

Harry stood stock still in his mindscape, as the strange, dark blob began to...envelope him. What was this? What was it doing? Why was this happening? Body stiff, he continued to blink, unwilling to move lest the thing attack him or something. Who knew what it was capable of doing?

Still, it didn't exactly _feel_ negative. It really just felt like a part of him. But if it was, why was it so different? Why did it stand out in this pure white space? It could have been the Horcrux he was looking for, of course, but he'd expected that to feel odd...off. And this thing didn't feel like that at all. So then what-

A sharp knock on the door had him forcefully yanked back to reality. Gasping, Harry felt a twinge of pain in his head as he whipped around in surprise and confusion.

"Time to prepare dinner, boy!"

Aunt Petunia's sharp call had him wincing, and then glancing at the clock he'd repaired years ago. His uncle was going to be home in an hour. He blinked in surprise. How long had he been in his mindscape for!? It certainly hadn't felt like hours had gone by, though the time proved otherwise.

Sighing, Harry put the books away, got to his feet, and left the room, heading down the stairs and into the kitchen. Once more, he pushed away all thoughts of what had occurred, while he focused on the dish he was to make, ignoring the pain in his head...

* * *

Voldemort was...confused. At least, he assumed this was confusion. Figuring emotions out was not his strong point, always having been so indifferent. But that dream-that _dream_! No matter how much he tried, no matter what he did, he couldn't get it out of his mind. He really shouldn't have taken that nap.

Tapping his long nails on the arm of his throne, he sat and pondered with a scowl on his pale face. What was this that was happening? Was his mind trying to tell him something? Or was this simply his soul connecting with another piece of itself?

The latter thought was indeed possible, he realized. No one else had ever created a human Horcrux before, so it was difficult to know what was to happen. This was a first in many ways, after all. The dream could have simply been a result of his soul connecting with itself, and with Harry being the container of said soul piece, that was why he had played such a role in the dream.

_Yes, that must have been it_ , he told himself. Still, even as he continued on with his day, something about that theory just didn't seem quite right, and that irritated him, because if there was one thing the Dark Lord didn't like, it was not knowing something...

Moving to his study, Marvolo took a seat behind his desk, trying to focus on the various sheets of parchment before him. Even he found it strange that a Dark Lord had paperwork. Still, plans needed to be made, raids conducted, and an Order, trumped. He had too many things in motion to be distracted like this for very long.

He had only just begun to really get some work done, when there was a knock on the door. Aware it couldn't have been any of the Outer Circle Death Eaters, he didn't bother slipping on his Voldemort glamour, and set down his quill. "Enter."

The door opened silently, and Severus Snape stalked into the room. He bowed before the Dark Lord, before raising his head to meet his eyes. "My Lord, I have it. Dumbledore has given me the counter to the tracer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short. I tried to make it longer, but this was the best I could do, and this seemed like the perfect place to stop, because yeah, I love my cliffhangers. I'm open to ideas and suggestions. Comments? Kudos?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what do you know? A longer chapter for this fic for once. Shocking, isn't it? Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to Gweniegrl18 for the idea on how SS got the counter. Still can't believe I didn't think of it earlier. This chapter will have descriptions of torture in it. I personally don't think it's too descriptive, but that depends, really. The scene is marked with *s both at the beginning and end, so feel free to skip it if you need to.

"My Lord, I have it. Dumbledore has given me the counter to the tracer."

For a moment, Marvolo couldn't believe those words. It hadn't been very long since he had given Severus the order to find the counter, and he honestly hadn't expected the spy to get it so quickly. After all, getting information from Dumbledore was harder than pulling teeth. "How did you obtain it so quickly?" he asked instead, honestly curious.

"Felix Felicis," Severus replied, actually a little irritated that he hadn't thought of it before. It seemed like such an _obvious_ solution now! It would have saved him days of stress as well, along with forcing himself to be _friendly_ and _socialize_. Oh, the humanity.

The Dark Lord, of course, recognized the potion's name immediately. "Ah, Liquid Luck. It was easy then?"

"Yes, my Lord. It barely took ten minutes."

Marvolo raised a brow, actually intrigued. That was quite quick, wasn't it? "What did you do?"

"Lemon drops and vodka. Calming Draughts, which his candy is always spiked with, do not mix very well with any alcohol, vodka, in particular."

The Dark Lord chuckled lowly in understanding. "So the old man got himself drunk, and then fell unconscious faster than usual because of the way his spiked candies mixed with his drink. And all this occurred in ten minutes."

"It is a very fast acting reaction," Severus explained. "I used a spell to keep his eyes open, then slid into his mind, found the memory of the counter, Obliviated him, and planted new memories. He will not recall I was there in the first place. I left no signs," he added, "for I ensured to wipe the memories of the portraits too, with the spell you invented, and his phoenix was not there at the time. However-"

"Yes, my spy?"

"Dumbledore placed more than just the tracer on the boy."

Marvolo paused, hands moving to grip the edge of his desk. "What did you find?" he demanded to know. He realized immediately that is wasn't a good sign at all when he saw Severus hesitate. Severus _never_ hesitated. "What did you find?" he repeated, his tone lower than before.

"...A magic dampener, my Lord."

The mahogany beneath the Dark Lord's hands cracked loudly. "What!?" he questioned in a hiss. "Is the old fool _insane_!? Is he trying to _kill_ his _saviour_!?" He couldn't believe it! What kind of idiot would place a magical dampener on a _child_!? It would be better to simply hit them with the Killing Curse and save the trouble of a slow, painful death as their magical core weakened with each passing day.

...No wonder Harry's injuries had stopped healing properly on their own. He no longer had enough magic to help himself.

Severus was honestly just as shocked as his Lord. He may not like the boy, but Dumbledore was setting him up for a cruel, painful death. It was more than a little appalling. He couldn't understand it.

Marvolo meanwhile, was already searching his mental files for information on how to remove the dampener. While a few phrases in Latin would be enough to counter the tracers, the same couldn't be said for the dampener. They were beyond rare, and could only be cast by extremely powerful wizards. Unfortunately, once cast, they couldn't be removed by anyone other than a Goblin, and they charged a hefty price for it too.

"My Lord?"

The older man pulled himself out of his thoughts. "You have done good work, Severus. You will not inform anyone of what we have discussed here today."

"Yes, thank you, my Lord."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Severus bowed, and without further ado, left the room, leaving the Dark Lord alone with his thoughts once more.

Marvolo wasn't sure what the old coot was playing at with all this, but he was not pleased at all. Harry was _his_ Horcrux, and therefor, _his_ to protect...right? Since the teen had no care for Dumbledore or the Light, there was no reason to kill him, and besides, doing so would only destroy his soul piece anyway, which he certainly wished to avoid.

Still, now that he had the counter to the trackers, there was no reason for Harry to remain with those filthy relatives any longer. He would get him tonight, and wait a day to see if the tracers remained removed. If they did, then he would take the teen to Gringotts and have that damn magical dampener removed, no matter the cost...

* * *

It was really getting late now, and no matter what he tried, Harry couldn't fall asleep. He'd pretty much always had trouble going to sleep, but it wasn't usually this bad. Already he had counted to a thousand, sung seven songs in his head, and recited the first chapter of Quidditch Through the Ages, and even after _all_ that, he was _still_ awake. ...How annoying.

The Dursleys had been more irritating than usual today, everyone feeling rather on edge, though no one was sure why. Harry had tried to keep himself out of their way by staying in his room and reading the books Voldemort had left him, but that had been hard to do with the way his relatives had kept calling for him to do some chore or another.

The raven haired teen was finally beginning to nod off, when a sudden commotion from downstairs had him jerking awake again. "Dammit!" he hissed. "Can't they keep it down!? It's fucking late!" Exasperated, he shut his eyes again, and tried to lull himself into sleep once more.

Then he heard the scream.

His eyes snapped open, and he automatically reached for his wand, before abruptly remembering it was still locked up in the cupboard under the stairs along with his trunk and broom. He knew it was Aunt Petunia who had screamed, but he wasn't sure why. She screamed a fair bit, really, though the loudest had to be that time she'd seen that mouse. Harry remembered it because it was the only time she had been pleased Hedwig was in the house, for his owl had killed it before eating it.

Still, Harry had a feeling that wasn't it this time, and wondered if it was the Order coming to get him, even if they hadn't said anything as such just yet. Though, hadn't they done the same thing last summer? Then again, the previous time they had been smart enough to get the Dursleys out of the house first.

Cautiously, aware he wasn't armed, Harry slid out of bed and padded over to the door. It was unlocked, he knew, so he slowly, quietly, pushed it open, and stepped outside the room. He peered towards his aunt and uncle's room, and saw the door was open. Dudley's bedroom door also stood ajar.

From his place at the top of the stairs, Harry wasn't really able to see much of anything, but noted the sitting room light was on. That wasn't all that odd, especially since Dudley always stayed up quite late over summers. Maybe the family was just watching a scary movie?

Dudley and Aunt Petunia were quite fond of them, though Uncle Vernon hated them, and if they ever watched them together (not counting Harry himself, of course), they left the lights on for his uncle's benefit, since it always resulted in him being utterly terrified and having nightmares.

Despite the situation, Harry cracked a smile, only sobering when he heard his aunt scream again. This scream though, was followed by a very familiar chuckle, and now the teen had a feeling he knew what was happening.

He slowly descended the stairs and moved to the entrance to the living room, leaning up against the doorjamb and glancing around the room. The Dursleys were all on the floor, and standing over them, wand in hand, was the Dark Lord Voldemort himself. He was torturing them.

Harry said nothing, did nothing to stop him. He merely stood there, head cocked in curiosity, watching dispassionately. There was no love lost between him and the Dursleys, and while he knew it was Voldemort who had killed his parents, and Dumbledore who had left him here with naught but a letter for information, he knew things would have been very different had his relatives bothered to care for him. If they had given him even an _ounce_ of the compassion and care they had given to their own son, Harry was positive this wouldn't be happening right now. But they hadn't, and now it was.

Despite the Dark Lord not having noticed him, the teen knew Voldemort was aware he was there watching, and went on with his torture. It didn't take him long to really start getting into it. There were Crucios, of course, but the intense pain of the torture curse didn't seem to be enough. And he started with Dudley, likely mainly because he wanted his parents to suffer.

*********  
With a severing charm, the tendons in both of Dudley's ankles were sliced, and he released a sharp scream of pain as blood pooled around his legs and onto the floor. His screaming continued, even as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon joined in. Harry cringed at the noise, but continued watching, intrigued by all the blood. He had never seen a severed tendon before, but was sure it was definitely really painful. The slices were deep too, he noted, spotting stark white bone.

Voldemort chuckled lowly. "It is unfortunate you were raised so appallingly, Dudley Dursley. But you are young, and though you should have known better, the Dark Lord Voldemort will be merciful." He intoned a simple incantation that brought Dudley off the ground and up into the air, blood from his ankles dripping down onto the pristine floor Harry had mopped just a few hours ago. How rude.

He directed Dudley to the other end of the room, and with another, clearly darker spell, Dudley went flying. And not just slowly or anything. It was with a shocking amount of speed, and before anyone could really register what was happening, the teen hit the opposite wall with a sickening sound.

The splatter was shocking. There was blood, and fat, and entrails, and Merlin knew what else, and it was _everywhere_. The wall, the floor, the ceiling. A quarter of the room was glistening with the mess. It was completely and utterly disgusting, and yet, to Harry, actually kind of fascinating. Gross, but fascinating, because just a few seconds ago, that mess had been his _cousin_!

The shocked silence that had fallen was broken abruptly by hysterical screaming and crying, before his aunt threw up the dinner Harry had spent so much time making. Ew. Voldemort merely examined the mess on the wall with interest, before turning his attention to the woman.

"Petunia," he intoned very slowly, ominously so. "Older sister to the brave, brave Lily. Such a shame you lack the courage she had. Courage to step between me and her child. Do you not care for your son?" He glanced over at what remained of Dudley, splattered on the wall. "Oh, forgive me, I should say, _did_ you not care for your son?"

Harry bit back a laugh, and watched, still choosing to say nothing. Though he was glad he wasn't standing near that wall. He didn't want any of that shit-quite literally, ending up on his clothes. And besides, the smell was absolutely vile.

The woman said nothing, merely sobbed and dry heaved. Voldemort, clearly not impressed, hit her with a Crucio, likely to regain her attention, and with another spell, Aunt Petunia had her hands splayed out on the floor.

"I have heard you spend far too much of your time cleaning," said the Dark Lord, eyeing the fingers with eerie crimson eyes. "Time you could have spent doing other things that would have changed your fate. Nevertheless, you won't be needing these where you are likely to go." Each finger broke, one by one, each enlisting a sharper and sharper scream. But the man wasn't done, and ten strong severing spells later, eight fingers and two thumbs lay on the floor, parted from the hands they belonged to.

Aunt Petunia threw up again, the bile mixing with her blood on the floor, but Voldemort wasn't finished with her, because he used yet another severing spell. And this one? This one sliced straight through dear old Aunt Petunia's jugular. Her fingerless hands rose up to her neck, attempting to stop the rush of blood, but naturally, those efforts were fruitless, and she died mere moments later, gurgling incoherently. She had felt far more pain than her precious Duddykins.

"And then there was one," said the snake like man with a smirk. He turned his wand on a blubbering Vernon Dursley.

Though he was already a pasty white, Uncle Vernon paled even more, and immediately began scrambling back like a crab, trying desperately to get away. But with all that fat on him, he really just moved far too slowly. Voldemort flicked his wand, before giving it a sharp jab.

Harry saw his uncle fall back, saw his chest depress, and heard bones snap, though the sound was quickly drowned out by screams of pain. The teen felt quite satisfied by it, actually, because he knew many of his uncle's ribs had broken, and who knew how many times the same had happened to him over the course of his short, painful life?

Merely crushing the large man's ribs however, clearly wasn't enough for Voldemort, for he continued the jabbing motion with his wand. The pressure on Uncle Vernon's chest kept increasing and increasing, until-

The teen watched with wide eyes as his uncle's upper body all but exploded, his half crushed intestines flying out, along with a lot of blood and fat, and other fluids Harry decided not to think about. His bottom half twitched for at least twenty seconds before going still, the intestines falling to drape over the trouser clad limbs, his scream cutting off mid way as he died in excruciating pain.

*******  
** For a moment, there was silence, and Harry swore he could still hear his relatives screaming. Then he realized his ears were ringing and gave his head a little shake as he stepped past the doorway. "Well, that was messy."

Voldemort turned to him now, and raised a non-existent brow. "Enjoy the show, Harry?"

"Yes I did, though I think that's only because it was the Dursleys." It was an honest reply, actually. The emerald eyed teen really wasn't sure he would have watched that had it been anyone else. ...Except Umbridge and Wormtail, maybe.

"You will come with me," stated the Dark Lord, waiting to see if there would be a protest. There wasn't.

"Where?"

"To my manor. We must leave quickly. There are wards around this house to inform Dumbledore of any dark magic performed in these walls."

Harry just shrugged. "Sure, why the hell not? I'll just grab my stuff from upstairs," he said, even as he made his way to them. "My trunk and broom are both in the cupboard under the stairs!" he called out.

And while Harry went through the small bedroom to gather the few things he would require, Voldemort moved to the cupboard, unlocking and opening it. He spotted the mentioned items immediately, and shrank them down, before slipping them into his pocket. He did the same when Harry returned with the books he had left him, and some clothing.

"Come," said Voldemort, moving to the front door.

Harry started following, then stopped in the doorway, and looked around the sitting room. It had been so perfect in here barely an hour ago. Everything so clean and pristine and immaculate. Now it looked horrifying, covered, splattered, streaked, and pooled with blood, sweat, tears, fat, vomit, urine, feces, and who knew what else.

The teen looked at his crushed uncle, his severed aunt, and at his smashed cousin, and absently wondered if he was a bad person for not really feeling any guilt. He knew the guilt would have been there for other people, but with these three, there was...nothing. Nothing at all. He just felt...empty. He didn't even feel relieved or pleased. Just empty.

"Harry?"

"...I'm coming."

And with that, Harry Potter left Number Four Privet Drive for the very last time. Left, with the Dark Lord Voldemort. He didn't know what was going to happen now, didn't know if he was going to live or die, and couldn't bring himself to care, even as he watched the Dark Lord perform the spell that left the Dark Mark in the sky above the house.

As the two Apparated out of the always boring neighbourhood, all Harry found himself wondering was how poor Remus was going to have a very hard time getting into the house with the stench that now lingered through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I'm not used to writing torture scenes. Comments? Kudos?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Thank you to all readers so far!

"Oh, that felt really weird," Harry groaned when he finally hit solid ground, Voldemort's arm the only thing keeping him on his feet, his stomach churning. "I think I definitely prefer brooms over this." Feeling better now, he straightened and looked around curiously. "Why are we at King's Cross?" he wondered.

"You have tracers on you," said the Dark Lord plainly. "I wish to remove them before taking you to my manor. I have no desire for my home to be infested with Light members."

"Oh. Alright then."

Still curious about this strange lack of care or fear when it came to everything that was happening, Voldemort pulled out his favoured yew wand, and passed it over the teen, muttering under his breath in a rapid stream of Latin. Harry remained still, watching curiously, but felt nothing, which was probably a good thing.

The spell requiring a moment to take effect, the man spoke now, not desiring silence at the moment. "I expected you to be more...upset over this."

Harry glanced away, and shrugged somewhat awkwardly. "I already knew about them, to be honest."

Voldemort's lipless mouth parted, though no sound came out. The teen had known, but _he_ hadn't? What sort of world was this where the Dark Lord didn't learn things first!? "How long have you known?" he questioned finally.

"Just since last summer, but I'm pretty sure they've always been there." Here, Harry sighed and looked back up at him. "It made sense, because it explained why the stalkers always knew where I was."

"Stalkers?"

"The Order."

"Ah. I see." For once, the Dark Lord really didn't know what to say, and after a moment of some rather awkward silence, scanned the boy again. This time, he was clean. Good. "Come." Once more he took hold of him, and they vanished, just as two Order members turned the corner...

* * *

"Gah, am I ever going to get used to that?"

Voldemort chuckled lightly, the sound eerie. "Perhaps." He released the teen now that it appeared he could keep on his feet himself. "Welcome to my manor, Harry."

While he was pleased to finally be away from the Dursleys-forever, and curious to explore this new place, Harry instead focused his emerald gaze on the Dark Lord himself. "What now?" he asked.

And that was the question, wasn't it? Because Voldemort himself had no idea where to go from here. He had wanted to kill Harry at first, but now...well, now he wasn't quite sure _what_ he wanted. "I...do not know."

"Oh. ...Do you, uh, have somewhere for me to sleep? It's the middle of the night. We can figure things out in the morning, can't we?" He didn't seem as if he was going to be leaving anytime soon anyway.

"Indeed. Come." He led the teen through the manor, eventually coming to a stop in front of a large door near the back. "You may have these rooms as your own. Sleep now. We will discuss matters once you wake."

Harry just nodded. "Sure. Thanks." And with that, he accepted his belongings which were enlarged back to their normal size, and entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

Alone, he peered around curiously. It was a large room, pretty cozy too, but anything was better than Dudley's second bedroom, so he sure as hell wasn't about to be picky. Figuring he'd explore properly in the morning, he just put his stuff away, and decided to head to bed. Now that the rush of what had happened was fading, he was starting to feel tired again.

Once he was laying in the large, and weirdly comfortable bed, Harry just couldn't help but think that this entire situation was just beyond awkward.

Voldemort had helped him. Had given him important information. Had killed the Dursleys. Had brought him all the way here. And neither of them had any idea why.

Harry knew there had to be a reason. There just _had_ to. You didn't just do stuff like this on a whim, did you? Was that even possible? Voldemort was a Slytherin, wasn't he? Didn't Snakes plan stuff out? Doing things on a whim was such a...Gryffindor thing to do. Voldemort was the farthest one could get from a Gryffindor...right?

There was a chance he wasn't going to wake up in the morning. Harry knew that. There was a chance that after he fell asleep, the Dark Lord was going to come into this room and kill him where he lay. But even though Harry wasn't afraid of death, he wanted to know what life without the Dursleys was going to be like.

Was he going to stay with Voldemort now? Was this going to be his new home? Were they still even enemies? He honestly didn't know what to think about this, his thoughts swirling all over the place. What was the Order thinking? Did they already know he was gone? Had they found the Dursleys yet? Did they know Voldemort himself was behind it all? Were they making plans to find him? Or were they just going to leave him to a potentially deadly fate?

Then again, living with the Dursleys had been pretty deadly too, and they hadn't seemed to care about that, had they? So then why would all this matter to them? What were the chances, he wondered, of them not bothering to do a thing, only to lecture him about being irresponsible once he returned to Hogwarts come September? It seemed pretty high, to him.

"Just sleep, Harry," he muttered to himself, taking his glasses off and setting them down on the side table. "You can think about all this in the morning."

* * *

But as it turned out, Harry wasn't the only one who was feeling very confused right now. In a room further down the hall, Marvolo himself was in bed, thinking hard, trying to understand why he had done what he had. He didn't give a damn about Harry's relatives-they had deserved what they had gotten and more. But why in Salazar's name had he brought the teen here? In his own home no less?

What was this strange...churning in his gut when he thought of Harry and what had been happening to him in that filthy Muggle house? When he thought of him being forced to fight in a battle he ultimately should never have been involved in? When he thought of him beaten and bruised and vulnerable?

He tried to tell himself that it was all because of the Horcrux. The boy was carrying a piece of his soul, and that was the only reason he seemed to...care about all this, in any way, shape, or form. But at the same time, somewhere deep inside, he knew that wasn't the only reason. He _knew_ it, but simply couldn't explain it. Not even to himself.

"Think about it in the morning," he told himself firmly. Once he was clear headed. Yes, sleep was all he needed. He was sure he would have all his answers come morning.

* * *

Meanwhile, at Number Four Privet Drive, Remus Lupin was hunched over the bushes outside, puking his gut out at the foul scent that he'd had the misfortune of smelling.

Groaning, he dropped to his knees, the sight of what he had seen inside flashing before his eyes. What in the world had happened in this house!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Apologies for the wait. Thank you to all readers so far!

Chaos. Sheer chaos. The lawn of Number Four Privet Drive was packed with Order members who were rushing around like chickens who had had their heads chopped off.

Most of them had been fast asleep when they had gotten the sudden, unexpected call to head over to Privet Drive, and they had all done so, unaware of what was waiting there. They had figured Harry had just done something wrong, or had gotten in a fight with neighbourhood teenagers, or in an argument with his relatives and they were needed to diffuse the tension a little.

Instead they discovered the three Muggles slaughtered brutally, and one Boy-Who-Lived missing. Well shit. This was going to be a _very_ long night.

Some in their group dealt with the Dursleys, others began searching the house, and more still pulled out their wands and performed various spells, searching for magical signatures and residue.

It was clear that the Death Eaters at least, had been here-had been behind this, seeing as the Dark Mark had been floating in the sky above the house when they had arrived (which also meant a flew obliviates had needed to be thrown out too), though they had managed to get rid of it.

Still, it came as a surprise to them all when Dumbledore solemnly announced that only one person had been here, that only one person had done all this-the Dark Lord himself.

Remus, still hunched outside, was not at all happy to hear that. Voldemort shouldn't have been able to even step foot onto the property, and yet, he had. And not only had he done that, but he had killed all three of the Dursleys, and very likely kidnapped Harry as well, and to Remus, that was the worst thing that could have possibly happened.

When the foul smells in the house had been taken care of somewhat, Remus was finally able to enter and look around properly, although nothing he discovered meant anything good either. He learned that Harry hadn't, in fact, been lying about the cupboard under the stairs, or Dudley's second bedroom. He hadn't been exaggerating either, and that only made the man feel worse.

And all of that only doubled when he realized there didn't appear to be any signs of a struggle on Harry's part. If he really was with the Dark Lord right now, it really seemed like he had-had gone willingly. ...How bad were things for the teen that he had _willingly_ chosen to go with _Voldemort_ after he had killed his family?

Remus found that he honestly wasn't sure if he even _wanted_ the answer to that, and with Moony howling in his ear, decided to keep his findings and thoughts to himself for the time being. He would attempt to contact Harry on his own, and form opinions later.

"What on earth have we let happen to our godson, Sirius?" he murmured to the dark sky. He wasn't expecting an answer. Sirius couldn't reply from where he was. Not anymore...

* * *

Severus wasn't at all surprised when he was called by Dumbledore in the middle of the night, and was even less surprised when he was asked to meet him outside Number Four Privet Drive. After having given his Lord the information he had been seeking, Severus hadn't expected to him wait for long before going after Potter.

But what the Dark Lord had done to the Dursleys? Now _that_ was surprising. And messy. Dark eyes flicked across the remains, taking in their gory detail, the man's lip curling in disgust. The Dark Lord must have been quite upset with what he had discovered. Still, there was no sign of Potter in the, er, gore, so Severus reluctantly supposed that was a good thing. He had no doubt the Dark Lord had taken the boy with him. That was the point in removing the tracers, after all.

Still, Severus found it to be quite ironic, when he was asked to search the Dark Lord's manor for the boy, and attempt to 'rescue' him should he actually find him. Rescue, eh?

Either way, he was curious to know what exactly the Dark Lord wanted from Potter. He didn't see any sings of force here, which told him Potter had either been incapacitated quickly, or gone willingly. Was the boy even still alive? There was no way of knowing unless he went to the Dark Lord's manor and checked for himself.

He sighed inwardly and fought the desire to rub his temples. Salazar, he was exhausted. Bidding Dumbledore a curt farewell, he left the Muggle's house and headed off to once again do as told...

* * *

Bill Weasley was not a happy camper. He stood alone in the kitchen of Number Four Privet Drive, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands, trying to control his breathing. Not because of what had clearly happened to the Dursleys, but because of what had clearly been happening to Harry in this house.

Fred, George, and Ron had all come to him more than once, with concerns about Harry and the way he was living and being treated by his Muggle relatives. Bill felt quite ashamed and guilty about it now, but he hadn't actually believed them at first. The three were known for exaggerating things at times, but as their oldest brother, he should have been able to _know_ when they were telling the truth.

And then he had seen Harry with his own eyes. The kid would have only just turned fourteen, but when Bill had first laid eyes on him, he had thought that the boy was only eleven or twelve. In many ways, he had looked younger than Ginny!

He still remembered it clearly, seeing that tiny boy, peering up at him with those wide, green eyes from under his dark hair in shy curiosity. When he had been introduced as Harry Potter, Bill had been shocked indeed and, for the first time, realized that his younger brothers had, in fact, been telling the truth.

After returning from the Quidditch World Cup, he had tried talking to his parents about his own suspicions and the things that Fred, George, and Ron had told him, but he had been told that they were all exaggerating and nothing was wrong, and that Harry himself was exaggerating what was happening because he didn't like his relatives.

Since his parents appeared to care about Harry so much, judging by their behaviour the last few days, he had hesitated and backed off, and hadn't really been very sure what to believe. So he had waited for more proof, and every time he had grown more suspicious, again spoke to his parents, and even Dumbledore, and each time he was assured nothing was wrong.

Bill slid down the wall to the floor, frowning deeply. It wasn't until right now, this very minute, that Bill realized he had never once heard 'It's alright, I'm fine' from Harry's mouth himself. Only from others speaking for him.

And now the Dursleys were dead, and Godric only knew where Harry was and what he was going through. Why hadn't he listened to his brothers? Why hadn't he listened to himself? Why hadn't he tried harder to help when he was so sure something was wrong?

Merlin, he could only hope Harry could forgive him. If he lived through this, that is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke up the next morning, was that he was being watched. The second he he noticed, was the one watching him was a snake. A very big snake.

Reacting instinctively, he bolted up in bed, and it was only then that he remembered where he was, and what had happened. He was in Voldemort's manor, which meant this snake had to be Nagini, and wow, he'd actually manage to live through the night. Weird. He honestly hadn't been sure if he would, not that he was complaining or anything.

**"Good morning, hatchling,"** the snake greeted politely. **"You still smell tired."**

Harry couldn't help but smile. **"I only just woke up, Nagini. Give me a couple of hours, and I'll be fine."** He sighed, stretched, then asked, **"Where's Voldemort?"**

**"In his study. Shall I tell him you're awake?"**

The teen shrugged. **"Sure. I'm going to shower."** He watched Nagini slither off the bed, across the room, and through the open door, and once she was gone, Harry himself got out of bed and padded over to the adjoined bathroom...

* * *

When a fully dressed Harry emerged from the bathroom, he found the Dark Lord waiting for him in the bedroom. He paused, blinked, and then resumed drying his hair. "Sooo," he spoke after a rather awkward moment of silence, "where do we go from here?"

Voldemort had absolutely no idea how to answer that, because not even a night of sleep had clarified things for him. Well, he supposed the biggest reason all this had happened was because Harry was his Horcrux, which meant his safety was now paramount, which meant staying with the Dursleys was out of the question, not that that was a possibility anymore.

"Come," the Dark Lord said finally. "We will discuss this over breakfast." He lead the way out of the room, hearing the boy drop the towel on the bed before following behind him. There was another important matter too, he realized. Revealing his true appearance. He disliked having to keep himself disguised when there was no need, after all...

A few minutes later, the two were seated at a table, eating breakfast. They were quiet at the moment, both of them thinking of the best way to broach what was on their minds.

Harry knew he was a Horcrux, or assumed so, at least, and wanted it confirmed, just to be sure. He was guessing that the only reason Voldemort had bothered helping him and bringing him here was because of that possible fact. But what did that mean for him now? Killing him would harm the soul piece inside of him as well, and there was no telling what would really happen, seeing as the book had claimed no one had ever made a human Horcrux before.

Harry didn't want to become a Death Eater or anything either. He had no desire to hurt or kill anyone not named Umbridge, Wormtail, or Bellatrix. Well, for the most part. So what was going to happen to him now that he was here? What was Voldemort going to do? What was _he_ going to do?

Across the table, Voldemort was just as unsure as his...guest was. Harry was going to be safe here, so that was a good thing, but what about beyond that? What was the boy going to do about school? His future? Ah, and there was still the matter of informing his Death Eaters, of course. That wasn't bound to end well.

"So," said Harry suddenly. "You turned me into a Horcrux." It wasn't a question.

Voldemort inclined his head. "Unintentionally, but yes."

"And how does something like this happen 'unintentionally'?"

If he wasn't the Dark Lord, Voldemort would have shrugged. "I cannot say."

"Right, and er, what're we going to do about this?"

Dammit, they had gone right back to that, hadn't they?

"Nothing," replied Voldemort finally.

Harry blinked. "Nothing?" he echoed in confusion.

"Nothing. You claimed you were willing to go neutral in this war, because you do not wish to fight. That is fine, in my opinion. You are my Horcrux, and thus, are under my protection. In fact, at this point, I would tell you not to fight regardless of your opinion. It is merely an advantage that you already have no desire to."

Slowly, Harry nodded. "That makes sense and all, I think, but what about Dumbledore and the Light? There's no way they're going to let me get away without fighting."

"If you can survive through one more year, then perhaps you will be able to do just that-get away."

The teen blinked. "How? Why one year?"

Here, Voldemort smirked. "Dumbledore is dying."

"...What?"

"He was too curious for his own good, and put his hands on a particular object I put a curse on myself. This curse was then transferred to him, and while Severus has managed to contain it in one of the old man's hands, it will still spread, albeit slower than meant to. He has one year, at the very least, until he dies due to this curse."

Harry just blinked again, and stared. This...was not something he had been expecting to hear. Dumbledore had always come across as being more immortal than Voldemort, just because of the way he spoke and behaved. He just seemed like one of those people who would never die. And now, here he was being told that Dumbledore's own-own idiocy was essentially killing him.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Harry thought hard. "Okay, so there's that, and I guess that's good. But everyone probably thinks you kidnapped me from Privet Drive, right? And I have every intention of going back to Hogwarts in September. So what do we do about that? I can't just show up when they know I've been missing, and they aren't going to buy me being a rebellious teenager and just heading off on my own."

Voldemort was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking before he spoke again. "Tell me, have you turned sixteen yet?"

"Er, what's the date today?"

"The third of August."

"Then yes, I have."

The man inclined his head, running a long, sharp nail over his lipless mouth. "Before we decide what else to do, there is something quite important that we must take care of first."

"And that is?"

"A trip to Gringotts. Dumbledore has placed a magic dampener on you, and this is greatly affecting your magic. Affecting it in a very negative manner."

Harry stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. "Negative in what way exactly?" he questioned intently.

"Essentially, what a magic dampener does is siphon away your magic," the Dark Lord explained calmly. "Depending on the type used, the magic either vanishes away into nothingness, or is transferred to the one who placed the dampener on the victim. It is hardly something that should be used on anyone not yet of age, because their magic is not properly developed or stable, meaning too much magic can be dampened, easily causing death."

Harry listened to all that, and then, slowly, asked, "And which kind of dampener is on me?"

Voldemort shook his head. "I cannot say. Severus found out from Dumbledore himself that there is indeed one in place, but he did not elaborate. Only a goblin will be of help to you now. They are the only ones who can remove them, and it will be quite expensive."

"I don't care about money! I want this fucking thing off me!"

"I know, Harry. We will come up with a plan, and then we will go. You are in no immediate danger, but the sooner the magic dampener is removed, the better."

Harry nodded, sighed, took a large sip of water, swallowed, then said, "By the way, what happened to all that hissing you were doing before?"

The Dark Lord needed no elaboration, and hesitated for a brief moment. No, there really was no reason not to do this. Besides, the more time he spent with this glamour up, the more magic he was wasting. With a flick of his wrist, he allowed his glamour to drop, revealing his true appearance.

Harry stared, taking in the soft looking skin, the dark hair, the nicely shaped yet still red eyes, the nose, the-Well hello, surprise boner. How've you been? He cleared his throat. "So, this is what you really look like, huh?"

"Indeed."

"And do you still want me calling you Voldemort? Or are you back to being Tom?"

"Marvolo. Call me Tom, and I will castrate you in your sleep."

Harry winced. "Marvolo it is." He sipped more water, eyeing the man, who couldn't have been a bit more than a decade older than him in face, and then spoke again. "So, Marvolo, what's the plan for Gringotts?"

And so the plotting between the Dark Lord and Boy-Who-Lived finally properly began...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Voldemort finally learns where Harry lives, he's eager to kill his enemy. But when he gets there, he finds that he can't do it. The Dark Lord quickly learns that the teen is far too valuable to kill, because Harry Potter belongs to him. In more ways than one. Title and summary subject to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

Bright and early the next morning, a magically disguised Marvolo and Harry found themselves standing in the large, marble hall of Gringotts bank. These disguises were basic, yet effective, and worked on everyone other than the goblins, who saw through them the moment they stepped into the privacy sealed area that was around each teller.

The goblin they were standing before stared, blinked, stared some more, and then cleared his throat and asked them what they wanted. It was Marvolo who spoke, firm and confident, and they weren't even questioned before they were led to a large office where they could speak to one of the higher positioned goblins privately.

When they were seated, Marvolo finally explained what the situation was. "We have recently learned that a magical dampener of some sort has been placed on Mr Potter here. We would like it removed as quickly as possible-cost is no concern to us."

"And who exactly placed this dampener on Mr Potter?" questioned the goblin slowly.

"Albus Dumbledore."

No more time was wasted. The goblin called for others of his kind who specialized in this sort of magic, and after a long series of words neither Harry nor Marvolo understood a single word of, the dampener was removed, and Harry immediately fell unconscious.

"The removal backlash," the goblin explained plainly. "He will wake in approximately an hour, and will need to sleep again in two, and at that point he will remain asleep for twenty four hours, so that his magical core will have the chance to regulate itself to the state it should have been in."

Holding Harry up against him, Marvolo inclined his head in understanding. "How long was the dampener on him?"

The goblin checked a sheet of parchment that had been placed on his desk. "November 1, 1992," he replied. "It has been on him since, siphoning away at his magic. He should consider himself fortunate that he has been able to perform any form of strong magic at all."

Marvolo asked a few more questions, the goblin explained a few more things, and then the two were taken to a side room where they could stay until Harry woke. The man lowered the teen down on the cot, and sat down in the nearby wooden chair, disguised blue eyes resting on the unnaturally pale face.

He still could believe Dumbledore had done something to incredibly cruel to someone he claimed was meant to save their world. The magical dampener, he had been told, was a type that siphoned only a small amount of magic at a time, so that it wouldn't be so obvious that it was in place. But Harry, according to the goblins, had a very large magical core, so even taking away a tiny bit of magic was, for him, actually a rather large amount. Enough so that within ten years or so, Harry would have lost enough magic to deplete his core, which in turn would have ended up killing him.

It was good Severus had discovered this now. Damage had been done, but it was minimal. Harry was going to be very weak and tired for the next month or so, but if he got the rest he required, everything would be fine and well, with no permanent harm.

It was difficult to know without asking him directly, but Marvolo was curious to know whether Harry had noticed or realized that he had slowly becoming weaker with each passing month since he had been twelve. He was also going to have to ask him whether the date the dampener had been placed on him had any sort of significance. All Marvolo could tell was that it had taken place during the school term, but not much more.

Marvolo tapped his fingers on his knee, thinking. He still wasn't quite sure what to do, even now that Harry was on his side, neutral though he may be. Removing the tracers, getting Harry away from the Muggles, and removing the magical dampener had all been the priority. But now all of that had been taken care of. So where did that leave him?

Harry had said, he recalled, that he wanted to return to Hogwarts in September. But as the Order now no doubt knew he was missing, what excuse could he have for where he had been? A kidnapping  _could_ work, Marvolo thought, if a rescue came along with it. Perhaps a day or two before September first, Severus could take Harry to Order headquarters, claiming to have rescued him from his imprisonment. ...Yes, that could actually work.

"Ugh...Merlin, I feel like I've been in the middle of a Hippogriff rampage..."

"Yes, you'll be feeling that way for a while yet," Marvolo replied casually, pleased to see Harry awake and coherent.

"What happened?"

And so the Dark Lord explained of what he had learned after Harry had passed out, recounted everything the goblins had told him, and as he spoke, he kept his eyes on the teen's, making note of the stony expression on his face.

"So it's gone?" Harry questioned once he'd finished. "Completely gone? No more Dumbledore stealing my magic?"

"It's gone, Harry," Marvolo confirmed. "No more  _anyone_ stealing your magic."

Relieved beyond belief, Harry sat up, groaning when his head throbbed in pain. "You mentioned a date earlier? When the dampener was placed? When was it again?"

"The first of November in 1992," the red eyed man replied.

"Second year... Oh hey, that was the day after your diary self made Ginny open the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk petrified Filch's cat." And as Marvolo blinked, Harry found himself frowning. "I don't...I don't remember even seeing Dumbledore that day," he admitted slowly. "And I'm pretty sure I would after the Chamber thing, especially since I was sort of blamed for it at first."

Marvolo nodded to show he was listening, but wasn't at all surprised by what he was hearing. "I expect Dumbledore either wiped or altered your memories-the former being more likely, as you have no recollection to seeing him. Unlike compulsions, which he has also been placing on you, a dampener has no need to be reinforced. Once it has been placed on someone, it's there for good unless removed by a goblin, the way you had yours removed."

Harry froze. "Compulsions?"

Marvolo blinked, a little caught off guard by the reaction. "Yes. ...Did you not know?"

"No!" Harry knew what compulsions were. He'd read about them when he'd been researching for the Tri-Wizard Tournament a couple of years ago. But he hadn't ever thought they were being performed on  _him_! "What were they making me do?"

So Marvolo told the teen what Severus had told him about what he had concluded, and that stony expression returned, quickly followed by a frown. But Harry didn't say anything. Even when Marvolo made sure their disguises were in place and the two left Gringotts to return to the manor, at which point Harry was instructed to eat and head back to bed, warned about how long he would be sleeping for, Harry didn't say a single word.

Marvolo couldn't blame him, and didn't ask for him to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently, I have a fever. I don't know how I didn't notice until now. It would explain why my eyes are burning and why I've been shivering for the past few hours. I was literally outside for five minutes. That's it. Having a weak immune system sucks. I know the chapter's short, but at least it's an update. Be happy. Comments? Kudos?


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